


The one where Jigen figured out he was in love

by School_Of_The_Cat



Category: Lupin III
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First Kiss, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, Internal Conflict, Light Angst, Loneliness, M/M, Mutual Pining, Ouch, Rare Pairings, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Tenderness, i love them and i am NOT sorry, implied lupin x zenigata, soft
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-17
Updated: 2021-01-30
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:20:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 6,908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25325284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/School_Of_The_Cat/pseuds/School_Of_The_Cat
Summary: When did his chest start to tighten at the mere sight of his partner? When did every brush of the knee or touch on the shoulder start to feel like it meant something? Jigen had been slipping for a while, this much he knew. But when did it all get too much? If he thought hard enough about it, he could almost remember the first time he had thought that Goemon was beautiful.
Relationships: Ishikawa Goemon XIII/Jigen Daisuke
Comments: 23
Kudos: 77





	1. Goemon's a Bad Liar

Jigen's initial impression of Goemon was that he was a stiff, self-entitled idiot. And, to his credit, he was partially right. But as the two of them found themselves alone more and more often, he started to notice the little things in Goemon’s mannerisms- the way he absent-mindedly chewed at the end of his chopsticks if he was concentrating, how he’d tuck his hair behind his ear when he got frustrated, little things like that. Soon, he began to find him almost endearing.

One such characteristic Jigen learned about Goemon was that he was an absolutely terrible liar. The few times he had even attempted to bluff in front of Jigen his almond eyes had gone wide, and he became overcome with an awful stutter, tripping over his words until Jigen would beg him to just give it up and tell the truth. He found it strangely _nice_ in a way, Goemon’s inability to lie. Anytime they would talk Jigen knew with full confidence that whatever came out of his partner’s mouth was the truth. The same couldn’t be said for him, of course; anytime _he_ spoke it was a gamble whether or not what he was saying was legitimate or not. This wasn’t to say he was a bad person or anything- just that after so many years in his line of work, you _had_ to get good at lying. But Goemon didn’t need to lie, never has. He was honest to a fault, his sense of justice running deep and resolutely. And, hell, for whatever reason, Jigen really liked that about him.

They were staying in a hotel in Naples. It was late August, with the heat of midday surrendering to the cool evening air, the silk curtains of their shared room fluttering lethargically out onto the hotel balcony. The two of them were stationed there while Lupin was between jobs, stood lookout in case he was in need of help, but the job was scheduled to last at least 3 more days, and so the pair felt quite relaxed as the Italian city pulsed with life beneath them.

Jigen was smoking on the balcony, his hat resting beside an overflowing ashtray that occupied a small glass table. He was watching Goemon through the doorway, as he sat on the bed closest to the balcony, absentmindedly running an ornate comb through his hair. Jigen enjoyed watching the teeth of the comb slip through his partner's black hair in that mesmerizing motion, the pearls set into the stained wood reflecting the colours of the evening sky. Evidently Goemon had taken notice of the gunman’s staring, as he stilled his wrist to furrow his eyebrows, glaring out at his partner on the balcony.

“What are you staring at, Jigen?” His voice came smoothly from inside the room, Jigen smirking as he flicked another cigarette butt into the ashtray nearby.

“Nice comb, it belong to your girlfriend?”

Goemon went quiet, his face and ears flushed scarlet. He turned the comb over in his hands before answering;

“It was my mother’s.”

“Oh, shit sorry man,” Jigen stood up to come inside, now feeling somewhat more sheepish than before. He slid the balcony doors shut behind him, the curtains falling lifelessly against the wall once again. Goemon was looking down at his hands, his slender fingers turning over the stained wood comb. Jigen cautiously crossed the room to sit next to him on the bed, his weight making the mattress dip where he sat. Goemon opened his mouth a couple of times, only to close it again shortly after, reconsidering what he was about to say. They stayed quiet like that for a while, until he finally broke the somewhat awkward silence.

“I’ve never had one. Ah, Uhm, a girlfriend, I mean.”

Jigen looked surprised.

“Really? Huh, who’ve figured.”

Goemon was bright red again, his eyebrows furrowed and mouth pulled downwards.

“I was too busy with my studies for such distractions.”

“Yeah, well, I dunno, I would’ve figured there would’ve been at least _someone_. No Mrs Goemon waiting at home for you?” Jigen gave a jeering smirk with the last part, flinching away as Goemon went to hit him in the arm in protest.

“Shame, you’re a good enough looking guy.”

Goemon’s eyes went wide at this before he abruptly excused himself with a bumbling excuse about needing to take a bath (he was obviously lying, but Jigen couldn’t help but feel a little amused at how flustered he’d made him). Now alone in the room, Jigen turned over Goemon’s comb in his palm, fingers grazing the inset pearl as a smile danced on his lips.

"Yeah, what a shitty liar."


	2. Goemon Wears a Suit

“Goemon, you have to wear it.”

Lupin was attempting to thrust a black swallow-tailed tuxedo into the samurai’s hands, but he sat sternly with his arms defiantly crossed.

The group was planning on robbing a dinner party that night in Dubai, where a fabulous 500-carat diamond was being put up for display. This, of course, meant that they had to blend in with the milling party guests in order to pull off the heist, and understandably, a samurai who stepped straight out of feudal Japan was bound to stand out. Goemon almost never wore disguises, and when he did they were usually fairly unassuming or reasonably comfortable. but _this_ \- this was entirely different. It was crucial that he was at the party with Jigen and Lupin in order to cut down the showroom’s chandelier at the precise moment Lupin needed him to. But the samurai still cowered away from the tux, eyes wide, shaking his head. Lupin groaned in frustration, eventually dropping the suit and raising his hands in surrender.

“Jigen, you deal with this,” he grunted, leaving the room with his hands shoved into his pockets.

Once the door closed behind him, Goemon’s wide eyes now fixed themselves on Jigen, who gingerly picked up the black jacket from the ground, dusting off its impressively tailored lapels.

“I’m not wearing it, Jigen.”

He rolled his eyes. “C’mon Goemon, that diamond is too valuable to pass up, you know that as well as I do. Besides, it’s just fabric, and it’s only for a few hours.”

Goemon clutched the pant legs of his hakama, continuing to stare wide-eyed at the tuxedo as Jigen slowly approached him. He stopped to put a hand on his shoulder, placing the cloth into Goemon’s hands with the other. The samurai made a face, standing to hold out the suit in front of him. He was silent for a moment, before sheepishly asking:

“C-can you help me put it on?”

The question came quietly, Goemon blushing all the while, eyes fixed on the floor. Goemon was by _no means_ well versed with modern clothing, not to mention something with so many pieces. He found it... daunting. Jigen smiled.

“Sure thing, pal.”

The gunman turned so that his back was facing his partner, ears prickling as he heard the smooth sounds of silk being untied, the fabric falling down to expose the bare skin of Goemon’s shoulders. He listened as cloth was discarded onto the hardwood floor with a gentle rustling, until Goemon’s voice cut through the silence, barely above a whisper.

“You can turn around now.”

Of the time Jigen had spent with Goemon up until this point, he could safely say he’d never seen Goemon so sparsely dressed. Goemon was, by nature, a pretty private guy, and so even during the long weeks they’d spend together in hotel rooms or safe houses, he would always sneak away to undress, each time seeming uncomfortable to be exposed in such a way in front of his partner. This had annoyed Jigen somewhat, as he wasn’t nearly as much of a prude, and had been naked in front of lots of people lots of times before. He didn’t see the problem with it. He didn’t know why this annoyed him that much either, but he chalked it up to the fact that ‘they were both guys,’ and that ‘it shouldn’t matter’. At any rate, he wasn’t quite sure what he had been expecting to see hidden underneath the samurai’s baggy hakama but was still somewhat surprised to now be faced with Goemon standing in nothing but a loincloth.

His skin was a smooth, blanched white, perfectly unmolested by any imperfections besides the raised white scars that dotted his torso and arms in a few places. He was muscular, but not overly bulky, as his muscles were woven tightly below his skin, making his limbs and torso appear slender and almost… feminine. His dark hair stood out against the white of his skin, as the thick strands flowed over his shoulders and part of his chest, making something in Jigen’s ribcage squeeze. Goemon cleared his throat and he quickly reminded himself not to stare too long. 

Unfolding the pile of clothes from Goemon’s hands, Jigen procured a crisp, white dress shirt and began freeing the buttons from their holes, looping the white fabric around Goemon’s bare shoulders. Coaxing his arms into place, he went to work buttoning up the shirt again, though he was slightly distracted now, as he was close enough to feel the warmth of his partner’s breath against his face as his fingers moved. Goemon’s chest was slightly flushed from embarrassment, and he jumped every time Jigen’s hands accidentally brushed against the bare skin, making him smirk out of amusement.

“What’s so funny?” Goemon shot back defensively, his blush darkening, which only made Jigen chuckle harder.

He got into the rest of the suit easily enough, though he had to hold onto Jigen’s shoulder to support himself as he struggled into the dress pants, complaining all the while that they were too tight and that he was going to rip them. He sulked in the backseat of Lupin’s car as the three of them sped towards the party, but Lupin was too cheerful at that point to notice, head atwitter with the plans that still lay ahead of them.

The party was in full swing and Lupin had set to work, milling about the wealthy guests in an attempt to blend in. Jigen had found Goemon standing alone in a corner, slender fingers fiddling nervously with the stem of a martini glass. He watched him for a moment before approaching him, admiring the way the black tuxedo hugged his slim waist and thighs. He almost looked normal, standing there by himself, his dark hair pulled back into a loose ponytail and his almond eyes fixed vaguely on the faces in the crowd.

“Nervous?” Jigen approached, standing to lean against the wall next to Goemon, casually lighting a cigarette. 

“A little. This damn thing restricts my movement so much, I’m not sure I’ll be able to carry out my task properly.”

Jigen gestured to the untouched drink in his hand.

“Well, that’s generally what that’s for, then. Your nerves.”

Goemon let out a shaky laugh, taking a sip and immediately grimacing.

“I would’ve preferred sake.”

The two went silent, observing the swirling crowd around them. Jigen chewed at the filter of his cigarette.

“Don’t we look a little strange, just standing here like this? Lupin wanted us to be out talking to people.”

“I’m already wearing this horrible thing, he should be grateful for that alone,” Goemon grunted, eyebrows furrowed.

“Well, I think it suits you. You should consider wearing stuff like that more often,” Jigen smirked as Goemon rolled his eyes.

“It’s too tight, I feel like I can’t get anything done.”

“Yeah, well.” Jigen trailed off as his eyes caught Goemon’s crooked bowtie. “Hold on a sec, c’mere”

He pulled Goemon close for a moment, loosening the silk tie before deftly retying it. Goemon held his breath, their faces close, and as Jigen finished he was surprised to look up at Goemon’s dark eyes mere inches away from his own. They stood like that for a breathless second, enjoying the closeness as the party continued to swirl on around them. Goemon's eyes flicked down to settle on Jigen's lips, and he moved imperceptibly forward, inch by inch, closing his eyes and holding his breath _until_ -

Until Lupin pushed himself free from the crowd and called their names loudly, causing them both to pull away.

“C’mon guys, it’s showtime!”

And with that, the moment was over.


	3. Goemon Misses Home

The nights seemed to last longer back in their apartment in Paris. The three of them, Lupin, Jigen, and Goemon were living in a small place above a cafe and had been for some time. Lupin quite liked the place, and so they’d been staying there for the better part of a year now, Lupin and Jigen adorning disguises every time they left the flat for food or supplies. That particular night, however, Lupin had gone off on an impromptu date-slash-heist with Fujiko, leaving Jigen and Goemon to themselves, as usual.

Goemon had been reclusive lately, more so than he normally was, at least. He was exceptionally quiet and spent most of his time meditating, as he slept very little. Only Jigen seemed to notice this, and though it worried him somewhat, he hesitated to bring it up as he knew how prideful his partner could be, and was afraid it would only worsen things. The apartment was painfully quiet as Goemon sat cross-legged on the couch, eyes shut in silent reflection, his Zentetsuken resting sheathed against his shoulder. Jigen entered the living room to grab a beer from the adjoining kitchen but paused in the hallway as he saw the worried expression on his partner’s face as he mediated. Usually, he had a placid, almost stern look when he was so focused, but now his face seemed to twist into an anxious expression that didn’t quite sit right with Jigen. Entering the living room, he turned to the chaotic stack of records that leaned next to their old-timey hand-crank phonograph and began to rifle through the vinyl discs, flicking through as he searched for _just the right one_. His fingers landed on a worn grey record with the label “Sukiyaki,” and seemingly satisfied, he gingerly pulled it from the pile and placed it onto the plate, bringing the needle down to rest between the plastic grooves. As soon as the music started to pipe out from the phonograph’s silver trumpet, Goemon cracked one eye open, now observing as Jigen stood from the floor and started to tap his foot to the melody that filled the apartment.

“I know this song,” Goemon said quite matter-of-factly, watching as Jigen nodded to the upbeat tempo.

“I know.” Jigen replied, still dancing slightly, “You think I don’t pay attention? This is the only record you ever touch in this apartment.”

“I remember it playing on the radio back in Japan when I was a child,” Goemon continued, now opening both eyes to watch the record turn in place. “It’s the only song I recognized from Lupin’s collection.”

“Why don't you ever play it then?” Jigen had been curious about this for some time now, as he’d caught the samurai on multiple occasions turning the vinyl disc over in his hands, yet never placing it into the record player to hear it’s happy melody.

“It reminds me of home,” Goemon replied, sadly. Suddenly Jigen realized what was wrong with him. Walking over to stand in front of the couch he extended his arm to his partner, a gentle smile on his face.

“Come on, dance with me you idiot.”

Goemon gave a quizzical look at the hand before cautiously taking it and letting himself be pulled to his feet. Jigen laughed and spun him in a small circle, still holding onto his hand.

“Jigen.”

“What? You can’t loosen up a little just this once? Nobody’s here anyway.”

With that Goemon seemed to relax slightly as the two continued to sway to the melody that poured out from the phonograph.

“Here, put your hands on my shoulders, like this.” Jigen lifted Goemon’s pale hands to rest just below his collar, his cold thumbs grazing against the back of his neck, making him jump a little. They both laughed a quiet, genuine chuckle as they started to sway in time with the music, Jigen’s hands finding their place against Goemon’s waist. He was met with surprisingly little resistance, as Goemon had already closed his eyes, gently humming along to the melody of the song. He smiled to himself, nostalgia taking over, his dark eyelashes fluttering against his pale cheeks. Then the song ended, and as it did the smile fell from Goemon’s lips as silence slowly replaced the sound of the record spinning.

“Hey,” Jigen’s voice came out soft and low, just barely above a whisper. Goemon eyes were heavy, and he looked at Jigen with such sincerity, he felt paralyzed.

“I miss home.” He mumbled, his gaze distant. Jigen's suspicions were right- Goemon had been homesick.

“I miss Japan. I understood everything there, and I didn’t feel so… foreign.”

Jigen nodded as he listened quietly, all the while his hands still gently resting against his partner’s hips. It had been about a year since they’d last been back in Japan, and though he’d never realized it the time away must’ve been taking a toll on Goemon’s mental health.

Slowly, as not to startle him, Jigen pulled him closer by the hips, sliding his hands up his back to bring him into a gentle, reassuring hug. His partner was as stiff as a board at first, his muscles tense at the feeling of Jigen's arms around him. But after a moment he succumbed to it, relaxing into Jigen’s touch and looping his arms tightly around his neck, burying his face into his collar. He smelled the scent of cigarettes and aftershave on his skin, a deep, smokey smell that made Goemon feel safe and warm in his arms. Jigen could feel his partner’s ribcage rise and fall through the thin silk of his kimono. He felt the constant rhythmic pulse of his heartbeat, their chests flush together as he ran his hand through the back of Goemon’s thick, black hair. Outside it started to rain- a gradual drizzle which increased into heavy droplets that pelted against the apartment window.


	4. Goemon's Bad at Stitches

Though the wound had been treated, Jigen still felt pain seep out from where the bandage had been tied around his torso. He felt like shit; his head had been pounding from a mixture of blood loss and stress, and his hat was nowhere to be found, probably lost in the struggle, meaning he had no way to block the bright evening sun that was trickling into the window from stinging his bloodshot eyes. He groaned to himself now staring up at the ceiling, trying desperately to think of anything besides how much pain he was in.

“Goemon,” he called out weakly, desperate for more pain medication.

Goemon appeared from the kitchen with his hair and sleeves pulled back to the elbows with white ribbon. He smelled faintly of chives and ginger and was holding a spatula.

“What is it? I’m trying to make soba.”

Jigen smiled despite himself. Goemon was a fantastic cook, and the idea of him cooking for just the two of them warmed his heart. The pain in his side faded a little, and he managed to pull himself upright to sit up, gritting his teeth as his body protested. Goemon rushed over to the couch, his hands on Jigen’s chest.

“What are you doing? You need to rest. Here, lay down, I’ll be mad if you open your stitches back up again”

Jigen groaned but allowed himself to be guided back down against the cushions.

“Why’d this have to happen when Lupin wasn’t here…” Goemon muttered, his face looking tired and worried, dark shadows casting over his features.

This wasn’t the first time Jigen had gotten hurt on a mission- in fact, more often than not did he come away from a job covered with cuts and scrapes, but usually the wounds were minor, and Lupin was there to patch him up again no problem. But this time they were alone, and the wound was bad, and Goemon’s hands wouldn’t stop shaking as he clumsily pulled the needle through Jigen’s skin. He apologized repeatedly as Jigen moved semiconscious beneath him, the entire time whispering to Goemon that _he’d be alright_ , that _he was doing fine,_ and that _he trusted him_ , though he was bleeding heavily and was growing paler by the minute. Eventually, he managed to pull the stitches closed, and Jigen slept for a long time, all the while the samurai hovered beside him, gently running a thumb over his scarred knuckles.

Goemon rubbed his face. He was tired.

“Hey,” Jigen whispered, weakly grabbing the pant leg of his hakama. “You’re doing fine, kid.”

Goemon’s cold fingers pried Jigen’s hand from his pants, guiding it back to rest against his chest.

“I need to finish making my soba, the pot’s going to boil over.”

Jigen smiled dazedly after him as he walked back into the kitchen. A short while later he returned again with two steaming bowls and rearranged the pillows and blankets along the couch so that Jigen could partially sit up. Balancing one bowl on his knee, he held the other one and, chopsticks in hand, attempted to feed Jigen with them.

“pfft, what is happening right now?”

Goemon went scarlet, still holding the chopsticks.

“You’re injured, you need to rest.”

Jigen laughed again, before wincing and holding his sides.

“Jeez, Goemon I was shot in the chest, not in the arms. Give it here, you don’t need to baby me like that.” Jigen held his hand out for the chopsticks but Goemon gripped them tightly with a stern expression.

“Just stay still, would you? You don’t have to do everything yourself all the time.”

Jigen mentally weighed the pros and cons of letting Goemon feed him: on one hand, it’s more than a little embarrassing to be treated like a child, but on the other hand he found Goemon so cute sitting there gripping those chopsticks with such a rediculous pout on his face. He ended up giving in.

“Fine, come here.”

Afterward, they played cards and Jigen lost (again), and so Goemon ended up sitting on the floor at the foot of the couch while he, in his half reclined position, braided his hair. It wasn’t something they did often- Goemon was usually very territorial about having his hair touched. But Jigen knew it relaxed him, and so he offered to do so as a silent way to reassure him that he really was okay despite his abysmal stitching job. Goemon softly hummed a Japanese folk song with his eyes closed as Jigen threaded his fingers through his thick black strands, admiring how soft they felt under his hands. As he neared the end of the braid he reached forward to tilt Goemon’s head back just slightly, placing a chaste kiss against his forehead. Both were surprised, but neither one said anything and were silent for a long time until eventually, they just fell asleep like that- Jigen on the couch and Goemon leaned back with his cheek against his partner’s thigh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my motivation to write comes in leaps and bounds so sorry for the long-ish hiatus!! I will probably do it again


	5. I'm Just No Good With This Kinda Stuff, Goemon

“So, do you have something to tell me?” Lupin cast Jigen a sidelong glance as he gripped the steering wheel of his yellow Fiat. It was just starting to rain outside and the view of the Spanish countryside was blurred by the rivulets of water streaking down the car windows.

“Nothing in particular.”

“Ha, yeah right. Sorry pal, but you’ve been acting weird this whole week, ever since Fujiko and I got back from Madrid.”

Jigen silently cursed Lupin’s stellar observational skills. He could sniff out even the smallest disturbance in Jigen’s life, and could always sense if something had happened or gone wrong. He could read him like a book.

“I got hurt on our most recent scouting mission is all. Didn’t think I needed to tell you about it.”

Lupin shook his head. “No, it’s something else. Injuries usually make you grumpier, not more distant.”

“And how have I been distant?”

“Well, I dunno you just seem more reflective lately. Like I keep catching you lookin’ out of windows for a long time or getting up early to watch the sunrise, and you always have this look on your face, like you’re somewhere far away.”

“Lupin, neither of those things are particularly weird activities to partake in.”

“Yeah but they are for _you_.”

Jigen went quiet and gazed out the window, biting his lip.

“You forget that I know you, Jig.”

“Yeah, well.”

The two listened to the rain pelt against the car roof and Jigen continued to avoid Lupin’s concerned looks. The setting sun coloured the countryside a honeyed red as the little car bumped along the unpaved roads.

“How’s Goemon been?”

Jigen’s ears reddened but he kept his face towards the window.

“Fine, why don’t you ask him yourself.”

“Well I dunno, I just figured since you guys have been spending a lot of time together lately…”

“And what? What did you figure?”

“Come on, you really gonna make me spell it out for to you, Jigen?”

The gunman fumbled for his cigarettes and cursed as he struggled to light one, his thumb shaking as it pressed down on the spark wheel.

“There’s nothing wrong with you two being together, I mean. You know I wouldn’t mind.”

Jigen continued to wrestle with his lighter.

“I mean, Goemon’s a good looking guy, and you know Pops and I have had this thing for a while and-“

“Lupin, stop it. There’s nothing between Goemon and I. It’s bad news, tangling up personal stuff with business.”

“Well, I do it.”

“Yeah, and look where that’s gotten you.”

The last part came out a little harsher than Jigen had intended it to. Lupin frowned and promptly turned on the car radio, loudly singing along to the song that came on. Jigen took a drag from his now-lit cigarette and filled the cabin with smoke. Neither spoke the entire rest of the ride back to their hideout.

When they returned Lupin loudly greeted Fujiko and handed her a briefcase, to which she squealed with excitement. Goemon was cooking in the other room, the smell of yakitori drifting out into the front hallway. Jigen ignored all of them, instead choosing to make a beeline for his shabby room at the end of the corridor. He entered and threw himself onto the bed, not even bothering to take off his shoes and coat. He was exhausted.

Everything had been so strange lately, and he didn’t know what to think. He felt something incredibly strong towards Goemon and it scared him to death. The idea of needing someone else, and _to be needed_ by someone in return was absolutely terrifying to him, yet still, the idea of losing Goemon made him completely fall apart. He resented the way his smile and laugh made his chest tighten, how his dark eyelashes looked so pretty against his cheeks when he closed his eyes, how his soft black hair felt threaded between his fingers-

“Jigen?”

His racing thoughts were interrupted by his door opening just a crack, letting the light from the hallway spill into his darkened room. Goemon was standing in the doorframe, his sleeves pulled back, and he looked worried, his brows knit tightly together as he stared down at Jigen sprawled messily across his bed. Jigen sat up, pulling himself to his feet, and walked towards his worried partner standing in the doorway.

“Is everything alri-“

In a moment he shot forward and kissed Goemon roughly, pulling his neck forward and crushing his lips against his soft, pale mouth. Goemon gasped, hands grasping helplessly at the front of Jigen’s shirt collar, but it was hopeless, as he had been pushed back into the bedroom door, shutting it completely behind them. He squirmed underneath Jigen as he pinned him against the wood with his thin frame, caging him in with his long wiry arms. Eventually, he pulled away, just a few inches so he could gasp for breath, a thread of saliva connecting their still-close lips. Goemon was bright red, his hair falling loosely in his face, his eyelids heavy as he panted. Jigen could feel each electrifying breath tingle against where it touched his face and neck.

Slowly their lips met again, more hesitantly this time as Goemon started to kiss him back, softly, though still unsure. Jigen pulled away to kiss gently at Goemon’s neck, who let out a soft gasp as his partner’s beard scratched at his sensitive skin. Jigen pulled away again to look down and admire Goemon’s face, his nose and cheeks now red and hot and his lips slick with saliva. His pupils were blown so wide Jigen felt like he could fall into them. All at once Jigen felt overwhelmed by the urge to touch him, to feel his white skin beneath his scarred hands, to run his fingers through his hair and dot kisses down his chest as he squirmed breathlessly beneath him. He wanted to eat him whole.

Jigen's eyes widened and he backed away slowly, his face paling and blood pounding in his ears. The last few minutes began to catch up with him, and his head started to spin. He saw Goemon pinned underneath him against the door, disheveled and panting and he felt his stomach drop.

_God, what have I done? What have I done?_

Before Goemon had a chance to speak or reach out to him Jigen was pushing past him out of the bedroom and down the hallway, throwing open the front door and sprinting out into the pelting rain that swallowed up the darkened Spanish countryside. Once he got far enough away from the house, he screamed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> big manly gun boy doesn't know how to deal with his emotions, stupid idiot baby


	6. Goemon goes back to Japan

Jigen had never been very good at facing his mistakes, and luckily for him, this time he didn’t have to.

Goemon had gone back to Japan after their heist in Spain, disappearing back to his temples and waterfalls and solitude. Though it wasn’t unusual for him to leave so abruptly after a job, Jigen couldn’t help but feel like he was the one who drove him away. Once Goemon had gone, he knew he wouldn’t be seeing him again for a long time.

Being back home in France felt strangely uncomfortable. The soft glow of the city at night, the couples huddled together around the streets and cafe’s and the omnipresence of the Eiffel Tower on the horizon seemed to mock Jigen as he miserably slunk down those tepid city streets. He felt like he stood out like a sore thumb, his dark, brooding figure contrasting harshly against the colourful city background. He couldn’t really blend in anywhere anymore, and the more he tried to feel at home, the more he felt like a stranger. It was also a bizarre feeling, being alone again. He'd been travelling with Lupin and Fujiko for so long now, he hadn’t had a moment to himself for the better part of a year. And whenever Lupin and Fujiko left on a job, he’d always had….

well.

The night air suddenly made Jigen shiver as he lit a cigarette, watching the embers glow orange against the cobalt sky. He was standing alone on his balcony, trying his best to survive another sleepless night. Loneliness had begun to claw at him, taunting him, and it kept him awake for hours, as each time he shut his eyes images of Goemon’s face were seared behind his eyelids. His smile. His eyes. His hair. He’d wake up gasping, covered in a cold sweat, then would stand out on his balcony like this until the sun came up. It was a strange dance he was dancing.

Jigen could remember his life before meeting Lupin. He was a hitman for hire, working for whoever could afford him, moving from kill to kill, always alone. It was the best way for him to operate, really. Guns were a tricky business, and most people who stood at the wrong end of a barrel ended up paying dearly for it. Lupin was one of the first people he’d met who seemed almost immune to bullets somehow.

Working for Lupin had given Jigen a purpose for a while- someone to rally behind, (as opposed to rallying behind money, as he had previously been doing). He also liked how Lupin thought, how he came up with exciting plans and heists and almost always came out on top in the end. He was a good person to throw his weight behind.

When he first met Goemon, he remembered thinking the samurai reminded him of a wild animal. Goemon and Lupin had fought relentlessly for days, chasing each other until the battle ended in a draw. And strangely enough, instead of admitting defeat, Goemon had just _laughed_. There was never really a formal proposal for him to join them, it just sort of made sense. Goemon added another piece to the puzzle that Lupin could manipulate to his advantage. And that was that.

At the time Jigen supposed that the reason he got along with Goemon so well was because he was the most rational of the group. He wasn’t disconnected from reality like Lupin was, nor was he dastardly like Fujiko. He was usually calm and reasonable, and Jigen had found that agreeable. It had always made sense that they would be put together on jobs; they were the heavy cavalry. 

When did his chest start to tighten at the mere sight of his partner? When did every brush of the knee or touch on the shoulder start to feel like it meant something? Jigen had been slipping for a while, that much he knew. But when did it all get too much? If he thought hard enough, he could almost remember the first time he'd thought that Goemon was beautiful.

They were in Lupin’s little yellow Fiat, somewhere in America. It was long enough ago now that the details of them being there had become fuzzy, so he couldn’t remember what it was they had initially set out to do. They were driving from Atlanta to Washington, spending hours at a time in the car, and barely stopping for breaks. Jigen was sitting in the back seat next to Goemon, who was staring blankly out the window. The car was small, and Jigen could remember feeling the warmth of Goemon’s thigh bleed through his hakama where their legs touched. The car sped along and the sun was quickly setting outside, the clouds now purple and red as night engulfed the sky. Goemon yawned.

“I’m going to shut my eyes for a while. Wake me once we stop, Jigen.”

The car continued down the road, and as the cabin rocked and swayed, turning down corners and bends in the lanes, Goemon shifted in his sleep. Jigen watched his gentle breathing, the way his shoulders raised and fell with each exhalation. The car turned again, and suddenly Goemon’s head was pressing against Jigen’s shoulder. He groaned quietly in his sleep, adjusting himself so that he could nuzzle his face into Jigen’s warm neck.

Had it been anyone else, Jigen would’ve woken them up. But he let him sleep. 

Taking another drag from his cigarette, it suddenly occurred to Jigen that he’d been crying. The tears slipped freely from his eyes, leaving little round spots of moisture on the metal patio railing. It took no effort for them to fall, so he’d hardly even noticed as they slid down his face. He wished he wasn't such a jackass.

He hated himself for not trying to stop himself. He hated that he’d kissed him, though the warmth of Goemon’s lips stayed imprinted against his own. He wished more than anything that he’d never met that strange samurai from Japan. But more than that, he wished he knew how to fix everything.


	7. Jigen Makes Things Right

A humid, grey mist lingered between the trees that morning as rain tapped gently against the roof of the temple. The sky was a deep blue, the sun not yet risen, and Goemon listened to the sound of his own sandals shuffling against the stone path leading away into the forest.

He liked meditating in the morning; a habit that he’d been forced to abandon since working with Lupin. But now that he was home, he’d walk down through the forest outside the temple until he reached a small waterfall that ran clear over the grass into a rushing creek.

The morning rain clung to his hair as he walked, eventually reaching the clearing. He removed his clothes, folding them neatly against the dry grass. The forest was so silent, his own breathing was deafening. He shivered. Stepping into the water, the waterfall was cold against his shoulders, but he felt instantly comforted by the pressure against his back. It pushed his dark hair into his face, causing him to close his eyes as he tilted his head back.

The rain continued to drip off the leaves around him, and a bird called out some few miles away. Goemon couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but the air felt different today, almost stagnant- as if the world was holding its breath for something. He opened his eyes, his vision blurred by the water.

Making his way back through the trees, he pulled at his wet hair, ringing the last of the moisture from the dark strands. The sun was up now, the sky a bright pink. As he approached the temple, he noticed the monks gathered in small groups outside by the temple gate, each speaking in a hushed voice to one another other. They turned as Goemon approached.

“You have a visitor, Ishikawa.” One said, looking back towards the main temple building.

“Oh?”

This he was not expecting.

Not many people came to the temple anymore, and even fewer knew that a samurai stayed there. He doubted any of the people living in town even knew his name. Suddenly his damp skin felt very cold beneath his kimono.

The inside of the temple was warm, a fire crackling in the hearth, light flickering against the paper walls. A dark figure sat on the tatami mat with his legs crossed, a cup of tea in his hands.

Goemon knew instantly who it was. He stopped in the doorway, his hair still dripping down his shoulders.

Jigen turned and nearly dropped his tea. His face was white, and his eyes were rimmed with a dark red as if he hadn’t slept in years. Neither of them said anything at first, both just sort of stood frozen, grasping for words that weren’t there. Jigen had written an entire speech the night before in his hotel room, yet he could remember none of it. He was simply shocked by just how much he had missed Goemon’s face. He stood shakily, the cup in his hand being discarded on the mat.

“Jigen?” Goemon breathed, his partner now surprisingly close.

“You’re beautiful,” Jigen whispered, moving a wet strand of black hair out of the samurai’s face.

With that Goemon began to cry. Jigen took him in his arms tightly as he let out big, heaving sobs. It was as if all of the confusion and sadness he’d felt from the last few months was all spilling out at once. Jigen rubbed his back, then kissed his head and face.

“I thought you hated me,” Goemon croaked, his eyes red and puffy.

Jigen couldn’t help but laugh. “I thought _you_ hated _me_!”

Goemon shook his head. “Never.”

Jigen stood there holding him for a long time. Eventually, Goemon's hair started to dry, and his skin became warm and pink beneath his silk kimono.

Once he'd stopped crying, they sat facing each other, Jigen gently kissing Goemon’s exposed neck and shoulders. His hands ran over his chest, his fingers exploring the soft skin and raised scars that dotted his flesh. There was nothing rushed, nothing desperate, just a hesitant exploration as if they were children experiencing their first kiss again. Goemon lifted his chin, softly pressing his lips to Jigen’s mouth. His eyes were closed, long dark eyelashes laid flat against his cheeks. The hearth crackled gently behind them, casting a yellow glow into the room. For just a moment, the world was theirs.

* * *

“So how did you find me?” Goemon was sitting on a large stone in the temple garden. The afternoon sun had chased away the morning mist, making the air feel clean and bright again.

“Oh, you know, I just asked around. Not too hard to find a man who dresses like it’s the sixteenth century.” Goemon made a face.

This was actually a lie. In fact, it was Lupin who had managed to track down Goemon’s cell signal.

“I would’ve called you. I was thinking about it,” Goemon looked away into the forest, “But I guess I was just too worried what you might say. Maybe that was cowardly of me.”

Jigen kissed him again, leaning down to catch his chin in his hands.

The afternoon was lazy and warm, and with nothing else to do Jigen and Goemon mostly laid around in the sun, catching up on the time they’d been apart for. Goemon had his head against Jigen’s chest, listening to the vibrations as he talked. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> eyyy I'm back who would've thought. Sorry about the wait everyone, I don't have time to write during school usually so I had to wait to write this during a break.


End file.
